


Cabochon

by jury



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bringing Another Partner Home as a Present for One's Primary Partner, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Sibling Incest, Triple Penetration, Unwilling Arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jury/pseuds/jury
Summary: Sivrhana's brother, the warlord Nirathyn, returns home after a long campaign with the unexpected gift of a slave. Sivrhana takes it upon himself to teach the slave his place.





	Cabochon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).



> All thanks to my beta, El, for the invaluable help.

Sivrhana was on the verge of sleep when he began to feel power gathering at the edge of his thoughts. It dragged him out of sleep, but he relinquished his worry when he realised that it was his own work, his own gems that Nirathyn carried into battle. That was good. He, of course, had been told that Nirathyn had led his forces to victory, as he always did, but it was another thing to feel his own protective spells weak and battered. 

He turned over and feigned sleep until he heard the door softly creak open, Nirathyn's weighty step following just behind. He still kept his eyes closed, even though his body was beginning to thrum, the magic turning over as it neared its source. Sivrhana kept as still as he could until he felt the bed dip with Nirathyn's weight, rolling him down and across to his brother, whose breath was warm against Sivrhana's neck. 

Only then did he open his eyes. Nirathyn looked almost alien, which was exactly as Sivrhana expected after months away. He was still the same in essence, with weighty, dark eyes framed by a warrior's face, marked from battle. Nirathyn's hair was too long, and there was a new cut on the side of his face — new to Sivrhana, at least. There were sea pearls tied into his hair, reminding Sivrhana of just how far away he had truly been. Sivrhana could sense nothing in them but a feeling of cold, deep water.

"Still alive?" Sivrhana said. 

Nirathyn laughed, quietly, the vibration deep against Sivrhana's back. "I have an excellent gem augur," he said. His hand was on Sivrhana's waist — the size of it surprising him after months alone — then clutching across his hip and down to cup his cock. Sivrhana gasped. Nirathyn's hand shifted to rest hot and huge on Sivrhana's stomach, ignoring his attempts to push it back down. "Did you wait for me as we agreed?" 

Sivrhana squirmed as Nirathyn pulled his necklaces over his head, earrings from his ears, and rained the gems down over Sivrhana, his power sliding back under his skin. It had been so long it took him a moment to recognise his own work. His previous elegant touches felt amateurish now, the whorls of gold and silver more decorative than functional. The protective spells in the gems ranged from a muted fire to completely dead. Not just the spell — the whole power of the gem had been drained, and he couldn't even raise it to light by cupping it in his hand. 

"Do you mean other people or my own hand?" Sivrhana said, managing to tear his attention away from the ornaments. 

"If you've left your workroom long enough to talk to another soul, I'll swallow down all that jewellery," Nirathyn said, pulling Sivrhana back so that the curve of his ass was pressed hard against the length of Nirathyn’s cock. Sivrhana gasped again, feeling short of breath, like the heat of Nirathyn's body was enough to drive it from his lungs. He arched his back and pressed his ass against Nirathyn, whose breath was turning slow and even. 

Sivrhana drove back with an elbow and evoked a pained gasp from Nirathyn.

"Don't you dare sleep," he said, reaching down to try and reason with Nirathyn's hand, which wouldn't move back down to his half-hard cock. 

"A week on horseback to get here," Nirathyn said, his voice barely more than a deep rumble. "A week where every morning I thought of your mouth and every night I dreamed of your ass and you think I want to _sleep_?"

Sivrhana shuddered as Nirathyn dragged his mouth over the curve of his neck, the bristles of his beard scratching at his shoulder and neck, followed by the soothing, hot curl of his tongue. He grabbed Sivrhana's hip and began to work his light sleep pants down his legs, but then abruptly stopped everything — mouth, tongue, hands. Sivrhana made an embarrassing, pleading noise, rolling his hips back.

"I almost forgot," Nirathyn said. "I brought you a gift." 

"Don't _stop_ ," Sivrhana said, grappling again with Nirathyn's hands. Nirathyn had the physique of the warlord that he was, terror of the eastern lands, where they told stories about him to their children to get them to behave. He had the muscles of a man accustomed to lifting a broadsword in full armour, the armour that shone with Sivrhana's gems at every joint. It made his heart flutter to see it, blazing with the knowledge that _he_ was the one protecting Nirathyn, _he_ was the one doing the most for him. 

"Just a moment," Nirathyn said, and then he was extricating himself from the bed — not to retrieve something from a pocket or bag, but to leave the room, abandoning Sivrhana, achingly hard and almost half naked, sitting up in bed like a fool. 

He watched the door for what felt like long minutes, annoyance building up within him again, until he could feel the tiniest spark of Nirathyn returning, the sapphire he always wore in his right ear. But it was not one set of footsteps in the hall but two; Sivrhana was briefly wondering what kind of gift required two people to carry, when Nirathyn pushed the door back open, leading a man on a delicate silver chain, wearing a collar with the most slapdash gemwork that Sivrhana had ever felt. 

"What's that," Sivrhana said, fighting the urge to wrap himself up in blankets. The man had light copper hair and downcast eyes, and was wearing only a loincloth and the collar. He knelt by the door without a sound or signal from Nirathyn, who returned to the bed, stripping off his shirt as he came. "I don't want it."

"But you kept saying you were lonely when I was on campaign," Nirathyn said, settling back on the bed and pulling Sivrhana back against him again. The inferior gem work on the slave was pulling at his attention, but it didn't last long as Nirathyn encircled him in his arms, rolling his hips in a slow rhythm against Sivrhana's ass. He felt like his body was melting back against Nirathyn's, against the hard planes of his muscles, his strong arms. He had been thinking about this every night — every night that he didn't spend in his workroom until the sun came up — since Nirathyn had left. He’d imagined the way Nirathyn would sweep into the room and pull Sivrhana against him like he was entitled, like he had an ownership. But it was never accompanied by what Nirathyn had brought. 

"What does it _do_?" 

Nirathyn's touches were driving Sivrhana mad. He was investigating each part of Sivrhana’s body like he was trying to judge its differences — squeezing his thighs, rubbing between them, the back of his hand soft against Sivrhana’s balls, but deliberately avoiding his cock now. Nirathyn was single minded, ignoring Sivrhana until he turned around to face him. He could feel his own mouth twisting in displeasure, despite the reactions of his body. 

Nirathyn thrust a thick thigh between Sivrhana's legs, and the weight of it against his cock was enough to make him moan, high and breathless, grinding against it. Nirathyn was cruel in his attentions, pushing Sivrhana's shirt up and off, hands pinching at his nipples, stroking along his arms. Sivrhana's head rolled back; he caught a glimpse of the slave from the corner of his eye, and his movements stuttered. He turned his gaze towards the slave, who was looking down, head bent sharply, but he was flushing like he might have snuck a glance.

"I've been told he'll suck your cock better than any woman," Nirathyn said, grasping at Sivrhana's hips and grinding up with his thigh, the tightness and pressure just this side of painful. Sivrhana was twisted, half up against Nirathyn's body and half turned towards the slave, just so that he could see him out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if the man spoke Sirin. He certainly looked like Nirathyn had brought him back from the southwest, his face marred by their features, too harsh and heavy. He was ugly — there was no other word for it, the dark sweep of his lashes against paler skin. Did he even know he was being spoken about? Sivrhana tore his gaze away, returning it to Nirathyn. 

"Been told, or you know?" Sivrhana said. He couldn't imagine this stranger would know how to make Nirathyn come, how to make him beg, even when Nirathyn thought he held all the power. 

"Been told," Nirathyn said, mildly, like he could tell what Sivrhana was thinking. "Did you forget I spent the whole journey thinking of _your_ mouth?"

"It must have been difficult to be hard for that long," Sivrhana said, pulling away from Nirathyn and sliding down his body, down to where his cock strained at his light trousers. He pressed his face there, inhaling Nirathyn's scent, feeling the press of his cock against his cheek, the roughness of the trousers instead of smooth skin. He licked the front, ignoring the blank taste of the cloth, just to get the slightest taste of Nirathyn. Sivrhana had been dreaming of this moment every time he allowed himself to sleep, the pressure of Nirathyn's big hand on the back of his neck, pressing him closer until there was no room between them. 

He freed Nirathyn's cock and gently slid his lips across it, feeling how it was soft and hard at once, where it was red and flushed at the tip and darker. It had been a long time, but this was one aspect of Nirathyn that he could never forget the details of. He had once struggled to fit it all in his mouth, but diligent, relentless practice had fixed that. He wet it with his tongue, lingering over the head, savoring each taste he allowed himself. Nirathyn reached down to encourage him, gentling him on, but Sivrhana had waited a long time. He had wanted Nirathyn all to himself; it was what had kept rousing him at night, reaching over to emptiness on waking. 

If someone had told Nirathyn that this slave was the best at sucking cock, it was only because Nirathyn had gone too long without him. He intended to remind him and make a point at the same time. He was reverential with Nirathyn's body, trying to make sure he had remembered every part of it, every inch of skin, the warmth of it, the weight of his muscles, each new scar and bruise of battle, each old one. 

"You're exactly as I remembered you," Nirathyn said, his hand warm and hard on the back of Sivrhana's neck, his thighs spread lax and lazy. Sivrhana couldn't help looking up at him, even though it made him feel too close to being overwhelmed by sensation. Nirathyn wasn't looking at him, though; he was looking somewhere over his head and down towards the slave, like Sivrhana wasn't doing anything at all. 

Jealousy boiled inside him. Why had Nirathyn even come home if he was going to bring this thing with him? He drew the head of Nirathyn's cock into his mouth and held it there, driving with his tongue at the underside, rubbing at the base of the glans. Nirathyn's hands cupped his head, but they were too gentle, too sentimental. Nirathyn was a weapon of war — they both were. Nirathyn was the sword and Sivrhana the hand that wielded it against their father's enemies, but it was never enough. 

Nirathyn groaned and worked his hips forward, finally giving Sivrhana the response he desired, even though it was little more than a breathy sigh. It wasn't enough. He swallowed Nirathyn's cock down to the root, his body protesting at the stretch — unfamiliar now, like stretching an unused muscle. Nirathyn pressed his hands to the back of Sivrhana's head, until Sivrhana's nose was pressed right into his skin, until it didn't matter that there was no breath to be found, because he was holding all he desired within himself. 

He could feel the slave's eyes on his back, on his ass, without looking. His first thought — _how dare he look_ — was replaced right away. Nirathyn was trying not to show his pleasure, trying to restrain himself, but Sivrhana could feel it, like he always could. They were linked. He could feel it in the tight grip of Nirathyn's fingers against his scalp, the tremor, the shift of his hips forward and back. He couldn't breathe, vision going pale, but he didn't care. 

Sivrhana swallowed around Nirathyn's cock, keeping up the rub of his tongue, hoping it was maddening, hoping Nirathyn would come just from this. He was close; Sivrhana could tell by the tightness of his thighs, the trembling of his stomach. But he didn't, instead tangling his hand in Sivrhana's hair and pulling him back, sliding out of his mouth in a wet rush. Sivrhana moaned, pulling forward against Nirathyn's hand, impatient not to be denied. But instead Nirathyn flipped Sivrhana around, hands roughly parting his thighs, pulling him up, back to chest, fitting his hand around Sivrhana's cock. Sivrhana relaxed back into Nirathyn's embrace, to enjoy the sensation of Nirathyn's hand sliding down to cup his ass, Sivrhana's legs hooked over his thighs, keeping his legs spread wide enough that he could feel the strain in his muscles. 

Nirathyn skimmed his fingers down over Sivrhana's hole, where he found the preparation Sivrhana had done earlier, mind not on the task, just mechanical. It felt different when Nirathyn did it — not just because his hands were bigger, warmer, but because Nirathyn didn't hesitate, simply thrust two fingers into Sivrhana's ass, seeking out his prostate with familiar ease. 

Sivrhana couldn't help but look at the slave, who was fighting to keep his composure; the beat of his heart fluttering against the garnet in his collar was proof enough. Sivrhana felt exposed in front of the slave. _He_ should be the one naked and spread, but not — not against Nirathyn, not without Sivrhana there. 

"Take it back," Sivrhana said, and Nirathyn twisted his fingers, stretching Sivrhana until he gasped, pushing his thighs open to their limit. He pinched Sivrhana's nipple with his other hand, flicking it with his nail. Sivrhana could feel the callouses of the road on his fingertips, each born from the sword. "I don't want it."

"But I spent so long choosing him for you," Nirathyn said, his mouth against Sivrhana's neck, teeth sharp against his pulse, scraping against his skin. "There were so many and I had to find just the right one for you." He slid his fingers out, tracing just around the rim with his fingertip. It was too light, but when Sivrhana pushed his hips down for friction, seeking stimulation, Nirathyn moved too, leaving him frustrated. Nirathyn’s tongue was hot and wet on his neck, but still light, nothing like what Sivrhana really wanted. 

His eyes were stuck on the slave, because there was nowhere else to look except his dull features, the red flush on his cheeks spreading down onto his chest, his bound hands and shorn hair. His body was tight with tension and shining with light sweat, across the muscles of his arms, his chest, down to his stomach, his thighs straining with the effort of kneeling on the stone floor. 

"I didn't know what to bring back for you, until we found the last garrison, up in the snowhills. Cowards, all of them — they didn't even fight to be captured. Deserters, I think. All of them with nothing in their eyes, except him."

The slave seemed to know they were speaking about him; he raised his head, but his eyes were still lowered. Sivrhana turned his head towards Nirathyn, trying to figure out what he wanted to hear, what he wanted to be told, how to make him ignore the slave and hold Sivrhana down and _fuck_ him until he forgot why he had left in the first place. "There's nothing there now," Sivrhana said. 

Nirathyn called something in a language Sivrhana didn't know, harsh to his ear. The slave looked up then, and met Sivrhana's eyes, and the pure hate in them spiked through him, making his body flare with heat. Nirathyn's cock bumped against his hole and Sivrhana gasped, unable to tear his gaze away from the slave's furious eyes, the way that it felt like it was burning through him, like a physical thing. How dare — how dare the man look at him when it was _Nirathyn_ that had called his name, that had rescued him from the stinking barracks and brought him here, spending hours with him on the road. How dare he not be grateful just to be here with Nirathyn, have Nirathyn call his name. 

"I chose him for _you_ ," Nirathyn said, and he said something more in the language that Sivrhana couldn't understand. The slave stood, revealing his long body, toned with muscle and olive skinned, still gleaming in the dull light from the candles on the wall. The air was heavy with tension, same as his body, and it radiated outwards. 

Sivrhana thought he would either die or come in the next few seconds if Nirathyn didn't stop _teasing_ him. The head of Nirathyn’s cock was a hot, steady pressure against his hole, dipping in and then pulling back, a maddening stretch and retreat, Sivrhana's mind half gone with it. 

"Who better to break him down and make him act as a slave should? If I leave him here with you, he'll be on his knees begging for my cock when I next return."

Sivrhana's hackles went up as the slave came closer. He felt like a cornered animal, even though he was pressed against the protection of Nirathyn's body, his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping himself up, his arms scratching impatiently at Nirathyn's legs. The slave was hard; Sivrhana could tell, even though he was keeping his bound hands in front of him, his eyes still furious and disgusted. Sivrhana could see the vein pulsing in his neck as he knelt by the bed. His body trembled with restraint, trying to hold back from whatever violence he wished to do. 

"He doesn't want it," Sivrhana said, and Nirathyn grabbed his hips, pushing his cock into Sivrhana in one long push. Sivrhana yelled, his voice cracking as he was overcome by the sensation — his cock so hard it was beginning to hurt, his balls drawn up tight against his body, Nirathyn's hands so hard on his hips that it felt like he was carving his prints into them, his legs twitching spasmodically as he tried to relax, tried to accommodate Nirathyn's girth without either coming or showing any weakness to the slave, who was gazing downwards again with his jaw clenched. 

"Does that matter?" Nirathyn said, rocking his hips up into Sivrhana, grinding into him so slowly it felt like a renewed torture. "He should be grateful he's here at all." He pulled Sivrhana's hands back until he could do nothing but look at the slave and feel Nirathyn's cock, hard and heavy inside him, his hips moving in a steady, practised gait, trying to make Sivrhana crack first, trying to make him beg for it. He wouldn't; he was too proud, especially in front of the slave. "He should be grateful if he ever gets to touch you. Any part of you." 

Nirathyn's hands skimmed, a ghostlike touch, up the sides of his ribs, his nipples, his neck, across his jaw, back down again, his arms — as if he meant to touch each part of Sivrhana's body, lay his claim over every inch of his skin before he allowed anything else. He began to thrust more eagerly, each one rhythmic and rough, the pressure on Sivrhana’s prostate unbearable. 

Sivrhana couldn't lose, not to Nirathyn, not now. He squeezed down around Nirathyn's cock, braced his legs and met his thrusts until Nirathyn's hips were stuttering. Sivrhana moaned, not from the physical sensation but from the power he was wielding. 

The slave was doing his best to pretend it wasn't happening. That could not be allowed. It was a privilege to watch Nirathyn fuck, Sivrhana thought. The powerful movements of his body, the suppressed pleasure that Sivrhana could feel radiating through his own body, how he was holding back his thrusts so that he could focus his attention on Sivrhana. Experience had taught Nirathyn how to temper himself to drive Sivrhana mad. Sivrhana knew Nirathyn enjoyed tormenting him, drawing him to the edge over and over again. 

The slave was so close that Nirathyn could see the reflection of the light in his eyes. He could see the fury in his gaze, how hard it was trained down, like if he just didn't look, he could escape the reality of the situation. Sivrhana extended his leg towards the slave, curling his toes in the blanket. Nirathyn groaned, hooking his hand under Sivrhana's other thigh and lifting it, forcing his cock even deeper. Sivrhana's eyes rolled back at the thrust and drag, the maddening work of Nirathyn’s hips. 

Sivrhana had been able to ignore his own pleasure, focusing on Nirathyn, but when the slave looked up at him again, he was so close that Sivrhana could see every aspect of his features. If he was free, what would he do? Kill them both and flee? Sivrhana wasn't so sure. 

"Come here," he said. The slave didn't move, didn't blink, only swallowed slowly, and kept looking down. "Does he understand?"

"Yes," Nirathyn said. "Although I think anyone would understand you." His hand worked down and gripped around the base of Sivrhana's cock, then began to roam again, cupping his balls and releasing them, anything to force a reaction from Sivrhana. He was trying to stop Sivrhana from thinking, from figuring out the game he was playing. 

"Come here," Sivrhana said again, and Nirathyn began to fuck him properly, each thrust jostling him, jolting against his prostate. The slave still didn't respond. Sivrhana thought Nirathyn would encourage him in that language again, bark a military order, but he was silent, the only sounds his harsh breath, the slap of his flesh against Sivrhana's. 

Sivrhana couldn't lean forward, his arms still trapped behind him, so he hooked his ankle around the back of the slave's neck and pulled, landing the slave's face onto the bed, one grey eye turned up in resentment, meeting his. Then he moved forward, until his bound hands were on the bed, his shoulders too. His face was turned up, enough that Sivrhana could see the bruises on his neck, the scars on his face. It was a terrible face, no part of it suited to the other. Was this what passed for handsome in the southwest? Their standards had to be so low. 

He reached out and grabbed the slave's curly hair, pulling him closer, his arm tight with the strain. He pulled the slave up until his face rested close to Sivrhana's calf, resisting by not resisting, his body passive, like he was trying not to be there in his mind. 

The buzzing of the garnet on the slave's collar was too much at this distance, interfering with both his pleasure and his thoughts. Sivrhana reached down and pressed his thumb against it; the slave tried to recoil, but Sivrhana wrapped his leg around his back, not to pin him, but warning him not to move. His muscles were restless under Sivrhana’s foot, shoulders rolling like he was trying to dislodge him without being violent about it. Sivrhana forced his power into the garnet until it began to burn under his fingers. Then it shattered, a dull pop, smoking fragments falling onto the covers, the floor. The slave looked down, shocked, a spark of fear igniting in his eyes. 

Nirathyn gasped, gripping at Sivrhana, and began to come, his hips driving deep. Sivrhana shuddered, the heat of Nirathyn's come inside him almost enough to push him over the edge, but Nirathyn reached forward and squeezed Sivrhana’s cock at the base until he whimpered, pushing his orgasm back.

"Make him do it," Nirathyn said.

"Do you think he even can?"

"That's what I want to find out," Nirathyn said, and he pulled out of Sivrhana, hands enclosing his hips.

"Rest until you get hard again," Sivrhana said. Nirathyn laughed, fond, his breath huffing into the crook of Sivrhana's neck. They were both looking down at the slave, then, and he was looking up, eyes dark with hate. 

Sivrhana ran his fingers over the slave’s jaw, turned his face up. There was a flicker of something in his eyes from the touch of Sivrhana's hand. Not arousal, not ardour — fear. He was right to be scared of Nirathyn, Sivrhana thought, especially if he had had the honour of seeing Nirathyn in battle. He pulled the slave towards them and he inched further up the bed. Sivrhana could feel, even from their sole point of contact, the shake in his body as he fought the urge to retreat. Nirathyn was quiet behind him, body sated, slick with sweat, the deep pounding of his heart reverberating through Sivrhana's body. 

"He's afraid of you," Sivrhana said.

"No," the slave said, and it was so quiet that Sivrhana almost didn't hear it, his ears pricking forward, feeling the word. 

"No?" 

"I'm not afraid of _him_ ," the slave said.

"What's your name," Sivrhana said. 

The slave looked conflicted, briefly, like he had thought there were some parts of him he could leave outside this room, where Sivrhana couldn't find them. It was the same as his work — exactly the same. Identifying the flaw in a rock where he could push until it cracked, how he could polish the stone to the lustre it secretly held, shape it to his desires. 

The hesitation lasted until Sivrhana moved his hand down, rested it around the slave's neck and pressed his thumb into the hollow of his throat. The slave swallowed, Sivrhana's thumb riding the movement. 

"Rebin," he said, like the word was being torn out of him.

"'No' isn't a word you know," Sivrhana said. "In this language or any other."

"Show him," Nirathyn said. "It's the only way he will understand."

"I understand," Rebin said.

"You don't speak to him," Sivrhana said, and tightened his hand on Rebin's neck until he tried to move out of his grip. "You speak to _me_."

"Generous," Nirathyn said. "I wouldn't let him speak at all."

"You can have your turn when I'm done," Sivrhana said, and he felt Nirathyn's sharp intake of breath, probably thinking of pressing his cock into the slave and finding him already wet from Sivrhana's come, of licking it out of him like it was the only taste of Sivrhana he would ever get. 

He hooked his fingers on what was left of the slave's collar, and pulled him up until Sivrhana's cock was touching the corner of his mouth, resting against the soft, bitten skin of his lips. The slave didn't open his mouth — simply looked up at Sivrhana in that same, irritating way. _You'll have to make me_ , is what that look said. 

Perhaps he expected Sivrhana to balk at that. But it made him ache with pleasure, the idea that Rebin was not answering the call of his body but of Sivrhana's will. He pressed forward and Rebin's mouth opened, allowing the head of Sivrhana’s cock into the warm space of his mouth, his tongue lying passive. If he expected it to be enough, simply holding him there with no effort, he was to be surprised. 

Sivrhana wound his hand in Rebin's hair and pulled until he was sure it had to ache; Rebin choked, eyes wide with surprise. The heat of his body was immense. Sivrhana gasped, hips pushing forward until he felt his cock bump the back of Rebin’s throat. Rebin gagged, but Sivrhana didn't let him recover. Those who put in no effort deserved no concessions. There was power in what he was doing, in how Rebin was looking up with wet eyes, his tongue flicking up to rub at Sivrhana's cock, swallowing him down. Rebin had no leverage, no way to move away from him. Sivrhana rested his head back on Nirathyn's shoulder and shamelessly gave into pleasure, pushing deep into Rebin's throat, forcing him to take half-breaths in between thrusts. 

Nirathyn might conquer with the sword, and Sivrhana had a part in that, but this was his prefered way, to look down at this man — this slave — and watch him try not to feel what was being done to him. Sivrhana could see him inching his hips against the bed; he wasn't sure if Rebin was even aware he was doing it. Nirathyn exhaled a shuddering breath against Sivrhana's neck, and that was enough to make him push forward and finally come, spending himself down Rebin's throat. Rebin shuddered, and pulled himself backwards, Sivrhana's hand slipping out of his hair. 

Then there was silence, but for Rebin's harsh breathing. He wiped his hand on his mouth. Some of that terrible tension in his body had dissipated; Sivrhana could practically hear him thinking _I thought it was going to be worse._

Sivrhana no longer felt satiated, despite the evidence of his soft cock against his thigh. It wasn't enough for Rebin to feel as if he had gotten off easy. Sivrhana frowned. Rebin didn't seem to have fully come to terms with the nature of his position. Sivrhana couldn't tell how his time with Nirathyn, before coming to the castle, hadn't prepared him. Nirathyn clearly needed a word about being soft with slaves. Rebin was surely expecting to be dismissed now, to spend his nights with the other slaves. That couldn't be allowed; he wasn't even thinking about their needs, only his own. 

Nirathyn was warm and quiet behind him, his bulk suggesting a slumbering beast. Enough contemplation. 

Sivrhana moved, grabbing at the slave's collar again and swapping places with him, pushing him up against Nirathyn, chest to chest. Rebin didn't struggle, but there was a reluctance there; perhaps he was thinking if he didn't display enthusiasm, he would be spared. It was a thought that deserved to be dispelled. Sivrhana stripped him of his loincloth with speed, revealing a fat, hard cock. 

"You were a terrible waste as a soldier," Sivrhana said. He opened the drawer next to his bed and retrieved the contents. "Your body was made to be fucked."

Nirathyn wasted no time in divining Sivrhana's intent. He held Rebin's hips down and ground up against him, until Rebin was moving too, although whether it was to meet Nirathyn's movements or to get away from them, Sivrhana couldn't tell. He draped himself over Rebin's back, crushing him between their bodies. Looking into Nirathyn's eyes from this close made his stomach clench; it was like glancing into a mirror and seeing someone else's face. He doubted Nirathyn felt the same way. Nirathyn tended to think with his body. 

Sivrhana opened the vial of oil and wet his fingers, running them swiftly and directly up against Rebin's hole. Rebin tensed. "Please," he said, mostly into the skin of Nirathyn's shoulder, muffled and breathy. _Please_ was as good as _no_ , in Sivrhana's opinion. He pressed his fingers in with more urgency. Rebin went still, apart from the movements of Nirathyn shifting him. Nirathyn reached down and parted Rebin's cheeks, squeezing them hard to make him gasp, allowing Sivrhana more room to press his fingers inside and spread them roughly. 

That was enough kindness, he thought, slicking up Nirathyn's cock quickly, and pressing the head to Rebin's hole. He could see Rebin biting his lip hard enough to turn it white, but that didn't concern him. Nirathyn kicked his hips up, sinking into Rebin slowly — a courtesy he didn't deserve — accompanied by a low groan and Rebin's pained breathing. 

"Well?" Sivrhana said. "Is it everything you imagined?" Nirathyn looked up at him, catching onto the game that Sivrhana wanted to play with surprising swiftness. "Is his ass better than mine? Tighter?"

"No," Nirathyn said. "I can't even tell he hasn't been fucked for weeks."

"Your restraint was for nothing, then," Sivrhana said. "You should have given him to your men a hundred times." 

Rebin whimpered as Nirathyn bottomed out, the whole of his thick cock buried in his ass. Sivrhana didn't have to imagine how it felt for Rebin, but it was Nirathyn's pleasure he was interested in. What did Nirathyn like? Was it hot, tight? Squeezing around him so hard he had to fight not to come, or was it not good at all? 

He watched the push of Nirathyn's cock into Rebin's ass; it was hypnotic, and yet unsatisfying. He wished Nirathyn was fucking him. Rebin had done nothing to deserve it except be present. 

"He hates it," Sivrhana said. Rebin's eyes were closed tight.

"Good," Nirathyn said. "Although he's still hard." His hands were hard on Rebin's ass, dimpling the flesh with each finger. "I can feel it." 

Sivrhana reached up and squeezed the back of Rebin's neck. He went still again, like a prey animal sensing a threat. "Don't come," he said. Rebin made a small noise, his lips parting. Sivrhana could see the pink inside of his mouth, the soft edge of his tongue wet against Nirathyn's skin. He licked the back of Rebin's neck just to feel him shiver. Nirathyn was watching him, pushing his hips in little circles that made Rebin flinch. He was overstimulated already, probably pent up from weeks on the road, knowing he was marching to this end. 

"It's not enough," Nirathyn said. His hips stilled. Sivrhana reached down and traced his fingers around the rim of Rebin's hole, where it was stretched around Nirathyn's cock. He oiled his fingers again and thumbed at the rim, before sliding another finger in alongside Nirathyn. 

" _Please_ ," Rebin said.but it was slurred. He was speaking to Nirathyn, perhaps having to quickly re-evaluate which one of them would be more sympathetic. It certainly wasn't Sivrhana; he crooked his finger to rub against the slave's prostate. Rebin shivered, full-bodied, before Sivrhana slid another finger in, relentless. 

"You were told two things and you've failed one," Sivrhana said. "Be quiet and try not to break both rules." He poured more oil directly onto Rebin's hole, and rolled the object in his hand up Rebin's thigh. He used this small carved-jade cock sometimes when he was alone and could no longer wait. Rebin didn't know what it was. The second touch of it was it pushing into his hole alongside Nirathyn's cock, smooth and long. He groaned, overwhelmed, as Sivrhana attempted to find a rhythm with Nirathyn. It was easy; they even breathed in the same cadence. 

"Is that better?"

"It's not you," Nirathyn said. 

"You've already had me," Sivrhana said. 

"That's not what I meant," Nirathyn said. Sivrhana flicked his eyes up and down for a moment before he realised what Nirathyn meant. He was holding himself back again. Sivrhana could tell he was close to coming, the muscles in his legs tense. Rebin's eyes were wide and blinking, listening to them talk like he wasn't even there. Sivrhana almost thought he wasn't. He was like a vessel to pour water into. 

Sivrhana poured the rest of the oil over Rebin's hole, wondering if another finger would even fit. The rim of his hole was stretched already, enough to look like it hurt. "I want you," Nirathyn said.

"You'll break me," Rebin said, his voice cracked and accent thick enough that it was almost unintelligible. "You'll kill me."

"I won't do you any such courtesy," Sivrhana said, sliding up Rebin's body, kicking his hips against his ass, his cock sliding and briefly catching against his hole, against Nirathyn. "If I wanted you dead, Nirathyn would have killed you already." 

He licked the rim of Rebin's ear, but his eyes were locked onto Nirathyn's as he shifted the stone cock, fingers hooked onto it, and began to stretch Rebin's hole as much as possible, ignoring his huffed breaths, and gritted teeth. Was such a thing even possible? Would Rebin's body allow it? He was sweating, drops rolling down the back of his neck, catching above his ass, the backs of his knees. 

"Do it," Nirathyn said. "He's yours." He slid out a little and Sivrhana pushed the jade cock up and they pushed in together, ignoring the muffled wail Rebin buried in Nirathyn's shoulder. "He likes it," Nirathyn said. Sivrhana couldn't breathe. The tightness made it almost impossible to move, forcing him to resort to a slow grind, feeling Nirathyn's cock with every movement that he made. "He doesn't want to, but he does." 

Sivrhana cursed, hips stuttering as he pushed forward again. The heat was incredible. He was shaking, his hands seeking out Nirathyn's, trying to form a physical connection. There was nothing — he had felt nothing like it, fucking into Rebin's hole while looking at Nirathyn, feeling exactly what he was feeling. It was too much, the slick slide of Nirathyn's cock against his, Rebin's whimpering. 

Nirathyn broke first. Sivrhana felt it, the pulse of his cock, the hot sensation of his come flooding into Rebin's hole too much for Sivrhana to handle. Then he was coming too, so hard that he felt transcendent, unable to stop himself. His limbs were shaking, and it felt like an immense wave overtaking him, dragging him under to drown in pleasure. He was doubled over, coming for what felt like forever. 

Rebin's hole was ruined, red and sore as Sivrhana pulled out and watched it try to clench around the stone cock. Sivrhana pushed it in and pulled it out, almost idly. Rebin was shamefully wet, the stone cock sliding smoothly. "He didn't come," Nirathyn said. "He's still hard."

Sivrhana hummed, and tapped his finger against the end of the cock, sending just a spark of power into it. It began to shiver, gently, pressed up against Rebin's prostate. He left it there, pressed hard, until Rebin's soft noises had shifted into moans. 

Nirathyn reached between their bodies, and for a moment Sivrhana couldn't tell if his intent was to pleasure Rebin or not, but after a second Rebin was coming, eyes squeezed tight. Some of his come landed as high as Nirathyn's neck, sending a twist of possessiveness down into Sivrhana's belly. He pulled the cock out, and pulled Rebin back too, shoving his limp, overstimulated body down the bed. He was being generous, letting him stay on the bed at all, knocking him with his feet when he moved. 

"Is it what you wanted?" Nirathyn said. His voice was tired, eyes half closed. He wrapped his arms around Sivrhana. 

"No," Sivrhana said. "But it'll do."

"Give you something to do when I'm on campaign," Nirathyn said, and he truly was half asleep now, eyes fluttering shut. 

"All I do when you're on campaign is figure out ways to stop you from dying," Sivrhana grumbled, but settled down in the circle of Nirathyn's arms like he knew Nirathyn wanted him to, even though his body and mind were both buzzing with energy. 

The crumpled heap of a man at the end of the bed was no fit slave for Nirathyn, not even to kneel in his presence. First Sivrhana would make a necklace, something worse than a collar, out of gold and jade — so that he would always remember what had been done to him the first night, and that he had liked it. 

The necklace would be a start. Then a set of chains in Nirathyn's battle standard colours, so Rebin would never forget where he was or why he was here. Each day would dawn bright through Sivrhana's window, and the light would gleam on those chains, the first thing Rebin would see, reminding him who he belonged to. 

The distinct sense of absence he always felt when Nirathyn was away was dissipating, slowly, draw away by the closeness of their skin. Each shift he made brought them into further contact. He could begin to relax, knowing that his work had kept Nirathyn safe, brought him home where he belonged. For once, Sivrhana pushed all thoughts of work and future war from his mind, luxuriating in Nirathyn's presence: the ends of his hair brushing Sivrhana's neck, the rise and fall of his breaths stirring him just slightly, his hand slung possessively across his hip.

Sivrhana could almost ignore the quiet, tearful sounds coming from the slave at the end of the bed. He wondered how it felt to lie conquered there, thighs wet with the come of his enemies. He couldn't allow the slave to disturb Nirathyn's slumber with his noises. Sivrhana stretched out, his foot bumping against Rebin's thigh. He felt him go still at Sivrhana's touch, silencing his breaths. That was better. He allowed the weight of Nirathyn's arm to be the anchor to draw him into their shared sleep. 


End file.
